


A Work In Progress

by Liquid_Lyrium



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Relationship, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Written as part of the Gift Exchange for DAHC 2014.) Bethany's transition into the Wardens is a difficult one, but she isn't as alone as she feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Work In Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [todisturbtheuniverse (lilypetals)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=todisturbtheuniverse+%28lilypetals%29).



When she woke up, she knew that everything had changed.

Bethany had drawn her first breath as a Warden.

The world felt different.

She could hear whispers at the corners of her mind. Whispers that reminded her of her nights in the Fade—but these voices were black and faceless.

They didn’t wear the shapes of dead friends, or dead fathers, and promise her safety. They didn’t offer to seal her magic away, or keep her family safe.

They didn’t promise anything at all.

Maybe that’s why they were so frightening.

“Good, you survived.” Stroud and the other Wardens were standing over her. ‘Survived’ sounded like a bit of an exaggeration to Bethany, who still felt as bad as she had on the brink of death. “We must return to the Deep Roads, but some of our number will remain here. They will look after you.”

“You came… all this way, just for me?” Bethany could scarcely believe that they had rushed to the surface on Anders’ word and her own folly.

“He means that they needed to make a tactical retreat because they encountered too many darkspawn, and your predicament was a convenient excuse to come get reinforcements,” a jovial faced young man said, stepping forward from among the ranks of blue and grey with a wry smile twisting his lips.

Stroud crossed his arms. “If only you committed a fraction of your wit to those under your command, Alistair.”

The sandy-haired man shrugged. “Who says I can’t do both?

Stroud shook his head with a weary sigh. “If only darkspawn could be felled with words, then.” He gestured and nearly all the Wardens moved with him.

Alistair and four others remained; two of them were from the group that had escorted Bethany to the surface. One of them had a patched-up wound; the other seemed to be a healer, tending to the first.

The one named Alistair crouched down beside her bedroll, settling down next to her. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Alistair, I used to serve in Ferelden. And you are…?”

Bethany shook her head with a bitter laugh. “A foolish, unfortunate woman?”

“I know the Joining isn’t pleasant under the best of circumstances, I’ll admit that, but you made it. You survived. There must be meaning and purpose to that.”

She turned her head and looked at him. He was… comely, the thought idly passed through her mind, but it was driven away by the creeping whispers. “You sound Fereldan. Why are you here?”

Alistair clutched his heart as though she’d sunk an arrow into his chest, “Oh! Such suspicion! You almost sounded like a Marcher there. And here I thought we were trying to get to know one another. I was in Ferelden during the Blight, you know, but now it’s over, and Wardens are needed elsewhere.”

“So, you didn’t… flee the Blight like the rest of us?”

“It’s a pretty poor Warden that flees a Blight.” Alistair shook his head with a chuckle. “Actually, I was one of the only Wardens in Ferelden, for a time.”

Bethany blinked owlishly and the whispers receded. “Wait, you don’t mean…?”

Alistair laughed quietly. “I’m afraid so. I stood at the side of the Hero of Ferelden. I helped vanquish the Fifth Blight. It was all very impressive, but I’m not nearly as handsome as they make me out to be in the stories, right? That’s why nobody recognizes me.”

I think you’re handsome enough as you are, Bethany thought to herself.

“Why don’t you rest some more?” Alistair suggested gently. “Carril over there got a nasty stab wound, and you need time to get yourself together.”

“Will we be going back into the Deep Roads?” Bethany hated that her voice sounded so fearful.

“No. We’ll be headed to a Warden outpost, between here and Ostwick. It’s closer than Ansburg, but I imagine we’ll get there eventually.”

Bethany nodded, and she could feel her eyes sliding shut, and the whispers seemed louder. They pervaded her wanderings in the Fade.

—

Alistair was talkative, and he mostly talked to her. Carril spoke little of the Common tongue—and when he did he spoke to the healer, Jayna.

Alistair’s explanations of Warden life and abilities were welcome but… less than comforting. It was so much to take in all at once. From the Joining to the Calling, a Warden’s life seemed to be miserable and unpleasant to Bethany. So, why was this man, Alistair, so happy to be among their number?

“Shouldn’t your rank be higher, Alistair? If you almost single-handedly stopped the Fifth Blight?” she asked.

He laughed easily. It was a warm sound: the first spot of brightness she’d had in weeks, perhaps years. Alistair adjusted his tabard. “Well, it’s not like I struck the final blow against the Archdemon. I stood beside the Warden who did that. And besides, the Hero of Ferelden made most of the hard decisions, did most of the hard work of leading. I contributed, but I’m not going to pretend that gives me the right to suddenly be named Commander of the Grey, or something. They offered, actually, but I turned them down; it didn’t feel… right.”

“You have no ambition to lead?” Bethany asked, curious about this Senior Warden.

“Once, I might have said ‘no.’ I’m still not sure I’m always the best man to command, but the Hero taught me many things, including how to lead. We’ll see where that takes me, but I want to get there on my own merits. Not because I was in the right place at the right time.”

The former apostate thought of her own situation and grimaced. “Or the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He gently touched his hand to her shoulder, “Cheer up, Miss Hawke. I know it’s a hard and thankless life, but there is worth to being a Warden. I promise you that much, at least.”

Bethany shook her head, but she didn’t want to argue against the man simply because she was bitter about the means of her survival. “Just Bethany, if you please. Hawke is my sister.”

Alistair shrugged easily. “If you like, Warden Bethany.” Somehow, that felt worse, but she let it stand.

—

They reached the outpost in good time. Carril’s condition was barely stable when they arrived, and Jayna looked relieved to have a real facility to work with.

“Carrill should be dead,” Bethany whispered. “That wound would have killed a normal person.”

“We’re already dead,” Alistair said grimly, his face not so bright for once. “Sometimes it’s an advantage, like here with Carrill. Someone else and that wound would have sickened and festered something awful, on the road like we were.”

“So, that’s it, then?” Bethany’s voice shook. “Just keep going until your body gives out? Or until the Calling comes and you lose your mind? Or until you die on the end of a blade, or—“ an image of Carver flashed in her mind and she shut her eyes.

“There’s more to being a Warden than just death,” Alistair said quietly, touching Bethany’s shoulder gently. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, and it may not ever, but there is. You have companions, brothers and sisters who would lay down their lives for you—“

“I already had that!” Bethany turned on the man, shouting at the top of her lungs. “I’ve already had a brother give his life for me to the fucking darkspawn! Don’t think you can replace him! Don’t you dare think I ever want that to happen again!” She curled her hand into a fist, and she fell to her knees, punching the earth. Fire glowed around her hands, in rage she could no longer swallow or press down. Anger she’d held back for too long. The heat in her blood burned the air, burned the mud as she punched the wet soil. “I—already—had—a—family!” Hot tears cut down her cheek like embers, and Bethany shook in place as she tried to simply let this terrible rage leave her.

She had expected him to run, she’d expected him to shout in return. She’d even half-expected him to suggest turning her out of the Order.

Instead, Alistair knelt down beside her. Gingerly, he placed his hand on her shoulder again. After a moment’s silence, he gave her a nervous smile, “See, this is why I don’t have a serious command. I’m terrible at the whole ‘picking up the troops’ thing.”

“You are pretty shite at it,” Bethany agreed with a watery laugh.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea—I should have, no one came from Ferelden without having lost something.”

“Even you?”

The question seemed to take Alastair aback for a moment, but he nodded solemnly, “Even me.” There was pain there, in his eyes, much like the pain in her heart, and she was sorry she had doubted his sincerity.

“I’m sorry. I must seem terribly… ungrateful.”

“It’s a hard burden you’ve been asked to accept, Bethany, but I think you have the strength to face this task.”

“I’m glad you think so at least,” Bethany said quietly, much less sure of this fact herself.

Alistair got to his feet, reaching a hand down to help her up, “Trust me, you never had to suffer through the Hero of Ferelden complaining.” A half-smile tugged at his lips.

—

Weeks passed, and Alistair never brought up Bethany’s tantrum, for which she was grateful. They passed one another in the narrow halls, one of the Senior Wardens tutoring her in codes of conduct, duty, and Warden history. She had the distinct impression she wasn’t being told everything, just yet. Even though she’d been through their horrible Joining. When she was alone, she felt those black whispers rush around her, keeping her company.

It wasn’t pleasant.

Then, Alistair found her one morning, and told her to pack up, a small unit was to head back to Ansburg. Coordinating for a mission.

It was going to be a long march.

They talked along the way.

“I’ve been to Lothering you know.”

“Really? I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“It was very brief, just after Ostagar. We didn’t stay long. I… heard the town vanished, soon after.”

“You heard right.”

“What brought you to Kirkwall?” Alistair adjusted the pack on his back.

“Family,” Bethany said simply. “My mother came from Kirkwall originally, before we were born.”

“That’s right; you told me you were escaping the Blight, I believe.”

“We fled the Blight… only to chase it back down into the hole from whence it came. Not the smartest plan to chase our fortune, I suppose. It wasn’t my idea. I was just tagging along with my elder sister.” Bethany shrugged.

She liked talking with Alistair. It kept those whispers quieter.

And maybe because he was handsome. But also decent and kind.

The next question came softly, “Do you want to talk about your brother?”

Bethany drew in a sharp breath, her fingers curling into fists. It hurt. It still hurt, and now that she was a Warden and connected to the things that had killed her twin, that somehow made it all the worse. She intended to say no thank you but instead out of her lips fell, “I miss him.”

Alistair nodded, patient. Listening.

“We were twins.” It almost sounded like an admission the way she said it. “He died leaving Lothering. There was… an ogre. Three of us made it. Carver didn’t.” Her throat closed on her and she could say no more.

“I can’t imagine what losing a sibling that close must have felt like,” Alistair said softly. “I’m sorry. So many good people were lost during the Blight. Too many.”

“What about you?” Bethany asked, once she regained power over her throat.

“Me?”

“No one left Ferelden without losing something. Isn’t that what you said?”

“There were so many. Most of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, but… Duncan, my mentor. His death still hurts the most, I think. I suppose I feel I should have been able to—“

“Stop it from happening?”

“Yes.” Alistair’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The marched together in silence for the rest of the day.

That evening, when they made camp, Alistair told her stories about Duncan and the Fifth Blight.

They sounded like stories he’d been holding close for some time.

When Alistair’s voice faltered, and his throat seemed to shut, Bethany reached between them and laid her hand on his.

“And the Hero of Ferelden?” Bethany said the words quietly. Alistair shook his head.

“I… don’t have the words.”

Together they watched the fire burn down.

—

Bethany could scarcely believe some of Alistair’s stories of the Fifth Blight. They were fantastic ways to pass the time on long marches. And she even learned things about people she’d known personally such as—“Sister Leliana! Sister Leliana traveled with you?”

“She did, yes, though she came off a bit… odd when she introduced herself,” Alistair chuckled nervously.

“Really? I never found her strange. She told the best stories.”

“Well, she probably didn’t introduce herself to you with Hello, I am here because I had a vision from the Maker.”

“A vision? She often spoke of seeking the Maker’s wisdom, and searching for his Will but…”

“She saw… a flower. A rose blooming in a withered garden, I think she said. I… can’t fault her for seeing the beauty in it, but I’m not convinced it was a message from the Maker.”

Bethany blushed heavily. She knew the garden he spoke of. “Maybe… a young apostate knew how sad she was that plant never blossomed and tried to see if there was anything left in that withered old bush.”

“Wait, you’re not saying…?”

“I… was quite fond of Sister Leliana. And she was always so kind to me, and she listened. Sometimes I listened to her too.” Bethany felt the same nervous butterflies in her stomach now that she used to feel talking with Sister Nightingale. She also felt a bit nervous confessing an old crush to him, but she pushed that thought aside. She wasn’t ready to examine that particular butterfly, just yet.

Alistair laughed. “I… don’t know what she’d say, if she knew the truth, but I think that gesture was just what she needed.” He smiled at Bethany with an expression of tenderness that surprised her.

“I’m… glad to know she survived the Fifth Blight.”

“She’s a remarkable woman. Never quite what you expect.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck.

“I still can’t believe she was a Bard!” 

“Well, yes, she… didn’t tell us that right away. She was conflicted over her life in the past. I think it left her with a lot of regrets.”

Bethany’s mood came down with a sudden revelation. “I guess being a Bard is no more romantic than being a Warden, is it?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Alistair conceded. “But I’d like to think that the Wardens represent a higher calling—a greater purpose than political machinations of Orlesian nobles.”

“You’re probably right,” Bethany murmured, feeling those black whispers return “but why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“Give it time,” Alistair said. “Even when there isn’t a Blight, there’s still plenty of work for the Wardens to do.”

“I take it that’s what we’re headed for?”

“I have little doubt.”

Bethany gripped her staff a bit tighter, for courage. “Then the sooner we start, the better.”

—

Bethany did not enjoy her first excursion into the Deep Roads as a Warden. They were full of darkspawn, devoid of sunlight, and other foul things lived beneath Thedas too, terrible things Bethany hadn’t seen on the expedition.

“Is it always so… loud in the Deep Roads?” Bethany asked the question of Alistair one night at their camp. Or at least she presumed it was night—it was difficult to assess the passage of time underground.

“It’s the darkspawn. Eventually you’ll be able to sense how close they are, get a feel for their number. Not an exact count, unless there’s only a handful, but… sort of a general assessment of their strength.”

“It frightens me,” Bethany admitted quietly. “This constant noise, it feels like madness.”

“You’ll get used to it. It won’t be so noticeable after some time. It’ll fade into the background, becoming a sense you can focus on, like scent or hearing.”

“Just another sense?” One she didn’t want.

“A useful one, too.” Alistair smiled and Bethany felt a tiny bit of that bitterness leave her heart.

“I guess a Warden does need to know where the darkspawn are in order to fight them.” She tucked her knees against her chest.

“Thank you for earlier, by the way. With the ogre,” Alistair touched her shoulder, and she felt a bit of panic bubble up inside her.

“Don’t mention it.” The words were a bit too quick for modesty or charity.

Alistair didn’t pry. “You’re on your way to being a fine Warden, my good lady.”

Bethany didn’t thank him.

—

She was exhausted and thankful when they reached the surface again. They came out during the murky hours of evenfall.

Alistair put his hand on her shoulder before walking on to talk with one of their companions, a dwarf Bethany had shared a tent with. She’d been pleasant company; she’d been stationed in Antiva previously, and she’d told Bethany all about her adventures there and what she’d seen. Some of it had been terrifying, but some of it sounded almost nice. Antiva sounded like beautiful country. She wondered where her travels as a Warden might take her.

—

“—And that’s when Carver told the Templar it’d been all his doing.”

“You’re joking,” Alistair’s eyes widened. “They really believed that pack of lies?”

“My siblings were always doing that. They’d make up the most ridiculous stories and excuses to hide any… missteps I’d made from the Templars. My siblings were always known as… rambunctious. The Templars in Lothering weren’t terribly bright, and they usually looked to outsiders, who came to trade, with the most suspicion.”

“It must’ve been nice, having siblings so close like that.” Alistair sounded so wistful it made Bethany’s heart ache.

“You… have no family?”

He laughed. “My family situation is… complicated. I have a half-sister but we weren’t raised together, nor are we close. You were lucky, to be surrounded by so much love growing up.”

“I know.” Bethany missed her family, she missed father and Carver.

“I’ve heard… twins are often… uniquely close, even among siblings. Like… they can feel each other’s hurts or almost share thoughts. Was it like that for you?”

“Sort of? It’s… difficult to describe. I don’t know if I knew his thoughts, or if I just knew his ways, and maybe that was close enough. Carver rarely surprised me. Even when I woke up with my braid nailed to the wall, it wasn’t a surprise.”

“What was he like?”

“Very different from me. So brash and proud. So Maker-damned proud, he always had to find his own way. Maybe he was trying to show me that I didn’t have to hide to go unnoticed.” She cringed. It was unintentionally cruel, even though the victim of the barb was long past hearing it. “I… didn’t mean it like that, I just meant… I was always so scared. He was never scared of anything—except not being good enough. He always had to prove himself.”

“To who?”

“Everyone, me, mother, father, our sister, but I think most of all to himself.”

“You must miss him terribly,” Alistair said gently.

“I feel like part of me is missing without him around. It’s like… walking around without footsteps or a shadow. There’s something not right, without him around. I’ve had years to get used to it but… it doesn’t quite go away.”

“It isn’t your fault he’s gone.”

“I know, but I still wish things had turned out differently. I was always looking out for him, he never talked to me about it, but I did. I’m sure he knew that I did. And he probably hated it.”

“No secrets between the two of you?”

“Not many.” She lapsed into silence.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I was just… remembering. Some little things I had forgotten. I haven’t spoken about Carver in ages, it’s… good to talk about him again, even if it hurts.”

“I’m always here, if you need someone to listen.”

“Except when you’re out fighting darkspawn, of course.”

“Well, all right, I’m not always here, but I am always willing to listen to you, Bethany.”

—

She cried during her second excursion into the Deep Roads. She cried every night, silently, into her bedroll. Her tentmate—an elven woman from Rivain—said nothing, and let her cry her tears. She wouldn’t hear Bethany’s apologies either.

“Do what you must to survive this life, sister. As long as you are strong on the field of battle, it doesn’t matter what else you do.”

Bethany found comfort in those words, and she realized, on the third day of their journey, looking at the grim faces of her companions, that she wasn’t the only one who cried at night.

It was hard and thankless work, but they kept each other alive—even when dying would have been easier.

It was easier to be strong for someone else. If she’d been alone, Bethany knew the task would have been too much.

She called her tent mate sister, before crawling into bed—wondering what her own was doing in Kirkwall.

—

Bethany stood on the ramparts at Ansburg, staring off into the black night sky. There was a storm coming, she could see lightning off in the distance.

The whispers were quieter now, but they still made Bethany uneasy.

She hadn’t been assigned sentry duty, but she was awake just the same.

Nightmares had woken her, and she didn’t wish to sleep just yet.

She wasn’t surprised when Alistair rounded the corner.

She wasn’t surprised when he came to stand beside her.

“I hope the storm stays off in the distance for a few hours, yet. There’s nothing worse than watch duty in the pouring rain,” Alistair leaned over the stones of the fortress, peeking down to the ground below.

“I felt a drop earlier,” Bethany admitted.

“Wonderful,” Alistair shook his head. He was silent for a few moments before speaking again, softer, “I haven’t seen you in some time. You seem to be more… settled in now.”

“I’ve made some friends,” Bethany admitted. “I’m still learning some of the history of the Wardens, but they’ve kept me busy enough some of those lessons have been conducted in the field.”

“It’s a long history,” Alistair said with a chuckle. “I haven’t heard all of it yet, and I’ve been a Warden for years now.”

“Is studying Warden history easier than your studies as a Templar?”

“I care about the subject matter a great deal more,” Alistair said with an easy smile. “So, yes I’d say it’s much easier. I mean, memorizing the Chant wasn’t that difficult, it was the bits about the Inquisition and the Templar Order that were the real boring stuff.”

“Do you think you would have made a good Templar?”

“I.. try not to think about it, actually. The Wardens are… where I belong.”

“But you were free to choose this path,” Bethany pointed out softly.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but I was able to affirm my commitment to the Wardens, yes. I suppose I had the chance to take a different path but… there’s no real leaving the Wardens. The Calling would have come for me, even if I’d been placed on the throne, and I prefer being here, with my brothers and sisters.”

“I’ve been thinking about everything, how I got here and my… circumstances now, all of this ‘Being a Warden’ thing,” Bethany admitted to Alistiar.

“Oh? Any particular thoughts on being a Warden now?”

“It’s… not the life I would have chosen for myself,” Bethany whispered “but I think I can be a good Warden. I think I can make this worthwhile.” She looked down at her hands, barely able to see them in the dark. “I don’t know if this is the Maker’s plan for me, or if maybe I messed up his plans, but it’s the path I’m on now, and I can’t… spend my life being afraid of the things I have to fight. Of who I am.”

“Being a Warden frightens you?” Alistair stepped closer to her.

“I’ve always been afraid of myself, afraid to be myself,” Bethany admitted. “But it doesn’t matter that I’m a mage here. It shouldn’t matter that I’m a Warden either.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally noticed your courage,” Alistair smiled.

Bethany felt another drop on her head, followed by another, “I wanted to thank you for being so patient and kind. It’s… not been easy accepting this life.”

“A Warden’s path is never an easy one, no matter if you choose it, or it chooses you.”

Bethany stayed with Alistair until it was the end of his watch.

They were both drenched and chilled to the bone when they went to their barracks.

—

“I have something for you.” Alistair looked nervous. There was a hint of blush to his cheeks.

“What is it? Another assignment?” Several months had passed since they’d gone to the Deep Roads together. Alistair was always out and about; sometimes they did small recon missions together, but more often than not, they would have separate duties. Even so, the man still sought her out, when they were together.

“Ah, nothing like that. I’ve… been holding on to something. I thought maybe you should have it.” He held up a rose. It was a bit faded in color, and slightly withered around the edges, but it was a rose nonetheless.

Bethany wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, “A… flower?”

“It’s your flower, actually,” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Leliana wasn’t the only one who saw it, and she wasn’t the only one inspired by its beauty. It was… a bit of sentiment, in a dark time that caused me to pluck this blossom. I never had anyone to give it to, but it’s held up surprisingly well over the years—probably due to your magic. I’d begun to wonder if there was something to Leliana’s vision after all.”

“So you’re… giving this to me?”

“I… it doesn’t mean anything—unless maybe you want it to. I… just thought you should have it, because… it’s remarkable, and so are you, and it came from you, so I… should really just return it, shouldn’t I? Instead of selfishly holding on to it.”

Bethany laughed and took it with a slight shake of her head. “It’s just a flower. A bit of simple magic.”

“It meant a lot to me,” Alistair said quietly. “In the face of ruin and death, there was still beauty and good in this world. Leliana saw that, too. It was… Remarkable, Bethany Hawke, just as you are a remarkable woman.”

Bethany suddenly found herself devoid of words. “I… perhaps. Let’s just… leave it at you calling me remarkable. I like that for now.” She twisted the stem under her hands, the stem green and full of tiny wrinkles and brown thorns. “But… it doesn’t have to end there, either.”


End file.
